


A Boring, Repetitive Nightmare

by Grim Reaper Cultist (DeletedBecauseShy)



Series: DBS’ Wounded Servants Series (Kuroshitsuji) [2]
Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Guns, Illiteracy, Pre-Canon, poemfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-22 03:35:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30032421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeletedBecauseShy/pseuds/Grim%20Reaper%20Cultist
Summary: Everything in Meyrin’s life has started to blend together as of late. The gunshots don’t even stun her anymore. When she is given a new mission, she barely even listens to it. Everything is just so blurry, in more ways than one.
Series: DBS’ Wounded Servants Series (Kuroshitsuji) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1929187
Comments: 2
Kudos: 3





	A Boring, Repetitive Nightmare

**Author's Note:**

> Kinda forgot about this series but I still like the idea! When I started this, we hadn’t even gotten to the maid arc so Apollo for any inaccuracies.

-Tsk Click Bang-

-Tsk Click Bang-

-Tsk Click Bang-

Her brain didn’t even recognise the sound anymore. It was a simple melody that followed her everywhere. 

She was a weapon. A weapon that worked for the highest bidder. A weapon without emotion or regret. 

She was a weapon, that was all. Nothing more, nothing less. 

Not once had she thought of leaving the underworld. Civilians existed in a different world from her entirely. She wasn’t like the maids and housewives she saw on the streets. She never would be. 

The metal was warm in her hands. Even the trigger had warmed after such prolonged use. 

-Tsk Click Bang-

-Tsk Click Bang-

-Tsk Click Bang-

All she thought about was the fact that she wouldn’t have to be outside much longer. It was only a handful of minutes until she could leave and return to wherever they had her staying this time. 

That, and eating whatever crumbs the gang would give her as a meal. Everything else was just something she would have to sit through. 

~

Sit through it she did. When they briefed her on her next job, she was barely even processing their words anymore. It was all just mindless talking. All she needed was a time, a place, and a picture. 

So, once they have her that information, she knew zoning out couldn’t really hurt. What would hurt is what they would do if they noticed. 

She braided herself by reviewing the things in front of her: a small diagram of the front of a manor, a picture of a small boy, and a name she couldn’t read. 

Of course, she knew it was a name, she just wasn’t sure whose, yet. It wasn’t until she listened to the two men in front of her that she had even a chance of catching it. “You’ll get rid of the Phantomhive boy by the end of the week, Owl!” She nodded. 

If killing a child was supposed to make her feel some sort of emotion, it didn’t. He would just be another name crossed out by the leader and his friends, and she would be the tool they used to do it. 

When the men finally stopped talking, she was free to go back to her small quarters. “Yes, Sir!” She stood up quickly before heading back out the door. 

The women’s quarters were small and empty, nothing else. There was no colour, no life, no noise. Really, it was just her most of the time. Any other ladies that would stop by were gone within the week or killed on the job. 

She tried to avoid thinking about how or why they died. But, it was hard to avoid the whispers when another woman was sent straight into a trap. Either fate was prominent enough to let the leaders roll sevens every time, or there was something else going on. 

Like before, though, she didn’t really care. Fewer women meant more room for her, less noise. Even if it would be nice to have someone to talk to. She wasn’t very close to anyone else, never had been. 

The only time she had dared to make friends it had ended badly. Most of the people around her would share that sentiment. In their line of work, there was no room for friends. There wasn’t room for anything, at times, just you and whatever weapon they had given you. 

~

When morning finally rested its head, she was already dressed and ready. The fur coat was soft against her skin where her ripped clothes didn’t separate them. “Owl, here are the directions.” It was one of the nicer men. He understood that she couldn’t read. The paper that he handed her only had simple arrows and a few pictures. At least she didn’t have to worry about matching the street signs to the names on the paper. 

‘Phantomhive Manor’ would be her final destination that day. That was good, manors were easy targets. Everyone inside had become was too comfy in their lavish lifestyles to warrant any paranoia; most of the windows would be open, easy targets. 

She grabbed the gun that was handed to her next, a standard rifle. The only change she made was to hand back the scope. “Still doing it the hard way, Owl?” The man laughed gently. 

“It’s not hard. That is hard.” She pointed at the scope now sitting in his hands. Like most people, he only gave her a strange look in response. 

Far away things were just clear in a way things up close weren’t for her. Why would she want to mess it all up with lenses? She would never really understand why they kept giving them to her. 

“Goodbye.” She said before running out the door in a light sprint, eager to start her lookout at the new destination, to get to perch among the trees for a moment a peace that she didn’t have otherwise. 

That, and to have a good reason to eat the small roll she had spotted in her bad when she grabbed it.

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed, leave a comment! I love and hard those things like gold, no joke ~<3


End file.
